


One Summer Day

by busylittlebee



Category: GOT7
Genre: Fantasy, Fluff, Forest Spirits, I've just been watching/listening to a lot of Ghibli lately, Inspired by Studio Ghibli, M/M, Magic, Mark has glittery eyelids, Romance, Summer, magic forest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:41:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24242974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/busylittlebee/pseuds/busylittlebee
Summary: Youngjae is too fascinated to leave. He’s too transfixed watching strings of little white flowers, baby breath he thinks they’re called, magically springing from the earth where Mark’s feet have stepped around the tree.
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Mark Tuan
Comments: 6
Kudos: 34





	One Summer Day

Youngjae turns to the path that leads back to the house, a small cottage with an equally small vegetable garden in the front yard. His grandmother is crouched among the plants, a basket full of red, ripe and delicious-looking tomatoes at her feet. 

“I got the strawberries!” Youngjae announces, jumping over the low wooden fence. “Mr Kim was selling them in a little stall by the road – said they’re from his own garden.”

His grandmother stands up and inspects the brown bag, pushing her glasses up her nose. She takes a strawberry and looks at it closely before popping it into her mouth. 

“Hmm, he’s going to beat us in this year’s contest if we don’t hurry. These are good,” she hums, chewing slowly. “Really good.”

“But Granny, it’s just a fruit and vegetable contest, I don’t think –”

“Shut up and taste this,” she snaps, taking one of the tomatoes from the basket and tossing it at him. “Go on.”

“You’re so competitive,” Youngjae chuckles, but takes a bite, the sweet yet slightly sour taste of the juice filling his mouth suddenly. “Nan, it’s really good! We’re definitely winning this year.”

His grandmother clicks her tongue.

“That’s what we thought last year, and then Mrs Yang went home with the trophy and her huge cabbages.”

“You make it sound so bad.”

“I do, don’t I? That was gross.” She can’t help but laugh, covering her mouth with a gloved hand. “Sorry, love. I’m old, and these things give my dull life a little bit of excitement.”

“Come on, don’t pull that card on me. You’re not that old. You can even lift heavier weights than I do.” 

His grandmother hums in agreement as she picks up the basket.

“That’s why I want you to go fetch me some raspberries and blueberries,” she tells him. “Go now, before it gets dark. I want to make a pie for tomorrow.” She hands him a little bag made of white fabric and Youngjae nods, determined. 

“Alright, got it.” He jumps over the fence and starts heading towards the forest. “I’ll be home before dinner, don’t worry.”

“Be careful with the goblins and spirits out there,” his grandmother calls. 

Youngjae rolls his eye to himself. When he was little, she would always tell him stories about the goblins and forest spirits and strange creatures that dwelled in the forest, and he’d lie awake at night, silent and still as a rock, to try and see if he could spot them out of the corner of his eye or catch them in the flowerbeds outside his window. Now that he’s older, though, he knows they’re just that—stories. However, his grandma never seemed to take them lightly. 

“I’ll try to,” he just replies, turning to give her a smile. “Avenge me if I don’t come home by dinnertime.”

“Don’t you dare joke about that, young man!”

Laughing softly, Youngjae walks through a wide grassy field that leads to the forest outside the little village. He knows where to find the berries—he’s been asked to go and pick them so many times over the years. His grandmother always wants to make a pie while he stays over for the summer, like a sort of celebration. All the other grandchildren are older now and too busy with their own lives to come visit her, so being the youngest, she cherishes him the most. 

He walks into the forest, sighing at the breeze that blows through the trees and thankful for the cool shade they provide. His footsteps are slow but steady, careful not to trip over the winding roots of trees and bushes. There’s a stream not far to the east, he remembers. He always finds so many berries there, he should go check there first. 

It’s the crackling sound behind his back that startles him as he is crouched by the stream, gathering some raspberries. Youngjae stops but doesn’t turn around; if it’s a wild animal it’ll surely jump on him if he does. It doesn’t sound like a boar or anything of the sort, though, and it would be weird to find one so close to the edge of the forest. They’re usually far deeper, close to the hills and the foot of the mountains. 

As slowly as he can manage, Youngjae turns around and glances at where he thinks the sound has come from. There’s absolutely nothing there, not even a squirrel or a tiny beetle. He can’t help the wave of relief that washes over him, although to be honest, he was also curious about the source of the noise. Sighing, he turns to keep gathering raspberries when a voice beside him speaks.

“What are you doing?”

With a yelp, Youngjae jumps and loses his balance, landing on his butt in the stream. 

There’s a boy crouching right beside where he was a second ago, staring at him with a furrowed brow that does little to cover the burning curiosity in his big brown eyes. 

Youngjae is too puzzled to speak. He just manages a strangled noise and a gasp when he notices his clothes are soaked through. As he’s attempting to sit up, the boy draws closer. 

“Can’t you speak?” he asks. His voice is light and soft like the summer breeze.

“I—I just—I can,” Youngjae finally manages. “But you scared me. I didn’t even see you—”

The boy holds out his hand. Youngjae just stares at it. 

“Get out of the water, you’re bothering the fish.”

Before he can register what he’s just heard, he grabs the other’s hand and is easily pulled to his feet. The boy straightens up and towers slightly over him, regarding him quietly. 

“Sorry,” Youngjae apologises in an attempt to break the silence, “about the, uh, fish.”

“What were you doing?” the boy asks again. It is only then that Youngjae notices his dark hair is messy and full of leaves and little branches. 

“I was, um, picking raspberries.”

“From that bush?”

“Yes.”

“So you were stealing.”

“What—no, no I wasn’t.” Youngjae frowns, shaking his head. 

“As far as I’m concerned, taking things that aren’t yours is considered stealing,” the other retorts, leaning forward and sniffing Youngjae’s shoulder. “You’re not from around here.”

Youngjae steps back and away from him. 

“I wasn’t stealing. Unless this is your property? I didn’t know people owned land in this part of the forest.” He pauses and looks over at the boy, noticing his lack of shoes. “You don’t look like you’re from around here either. What’s your name?” 

The boy blinks, seemingly taken aback at the question. He hums, glancing around and pausing to look at Youngjae’s chest. 

“Mark,” he eventually replies, nodding. “Yes, Mark. That’s my name.”

Youngjae is sure that isn’t his real name.

“Right, Mark. I haven’t seen you around the village. Do you live there?”

“Village?” Mark quirks an eyebrow. 

“Yes. There’s a village outside the forest, down the hills over there,” Youngjae points at the way he’s come from. “You don’t live there? There aren’t any other towns nearby.”

Mark leans against the trunk of a tree, still watching him intently. 

“No, I live here,” he says. “This is my home.” 

Youngjae blinks, looking around to see if there’s a cottage or some kind of house nearby and he’s missed it. But there’s nothing. 

“Here?” he echoes. “Here, as in… the forest?” 

Mark nods like it isn’t a big deal. The sunlight streaming through the canopy catches on a spot under his eye, high on his cheekbone, that sparkles briefly and is gone when Youngjae blinks again. 

Is Mark’s face truly sparkling? Has Youngjae fallen into the stream, hit himself in the head with a rock and is now having a strange lucid dream? He pinches himself just to check, and the pain that comes from it seems to confirm that he’s awake. 

“Well,” he starts, clearing his throat and bending down to grab the bag his grandma has given him, “I suppose you’re not letting me take the raspberries, so I’d better go.”

Perhaps this boy is mad. Maybe he got lost in the forest at some point and has been surviving on magic mushrooms, growing increasingly more and more delusional. He tries to focus on his face in case he can match it to any missing persons posters he’s seen recently. 

“What do you want them for?” Mark suddenly asks, picking up the few berries Youngjae had managed to pick. 

“My grandmother’s making a pie.”

“Your grandmother?” 

“Yes. She lives in a cottage, the one with the green roof, a vegetable garden and—”

“Ah,” Mark suddenly exclaims, breaking into a smile full of white, perfect teeth, “the healer.”

Youngjae blinks.

“I’m sorry?”

“You’re talking about the lovely lady who grows vegetables and sometimes comes here to borrow herbs and berries,” Mark replies. “She knows that nothing this forest offers is for free and acknowledges it, so she always gives something in return. Mostly food for the birds and the deer, or new seeds that she plants and cares for until they become beautiful flowers.” 

Youngjae stares at him for a while. There are just so many questions.

“Why are you calling my granny a healer?” he asks, wary. 

“Because that’s what she is.” Mark steps close to him, studying his expression. “She healed me when I was hurting, and I will always be indebted to her.”

“Healed you?”

“I was weak and ill at the time, and she cared for me. It was… a harsh winter,” Mark simply says. “I would have probably died had it not been for her.”

Youngjae’s frown deepens. He’ll have to ask his grandmother a few questions over dinner, although he isn’t sure if she’ll bother answering them. She likes to pretend she can’t hear properly to avoid unwanted conversations or when she wants to watch telly. 

Before he knows it, Mark’s fingertips are grazing his forehead, smoothing over his furrowed brow. Gasping, Youngjae recoils and stumbles back against a nearby tree. Mark blinks a few times, his eyelids glinting with that soft sparkle under the sunlight, and then smiles a boyish, innocent smile. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he says, holding out his hand again and offering the raspberries to Youngjae. “Here, you can have these.”

Youngjae glances down at his hand and then back up at his beautiful face, considering it.

“Thank you.” He bows slightly and lets Mark drop them in the little bag. 

Mark bows in return before stepping around Youngjae to inspect the tree he has stumbled upon. It’s tall, with a broad, strong trunk. There are multiple cracks and holes in the bark, though, and Mark eyes them all with a concerned expression. 

Youngjae is too fascinated to leave. He’s too transfixed watching strings of little white flowers, baby breath he thinks they’re called, magically springing from the earth where Mark’s feet have stepped around the tree. 

“Sorry, how—”

“This tree is very old,” Mark murmurs, his hands smoothing over the edges of a particularly big hole in the bark. “And very ill. Why haven’t I noticed?” 

He looks down at the ground, where some of the roots have risen to the surface. Sighing, he leans down and touches them with all the care in the world. Youngjae puts his bag aside and bends down slightly, trying to make out the words Mark is whispering to the tree. 

“Leave,” he is saying, “please.”

“Who are you talking to?” Youngjae asks after a moment. He’s whispering, too.

“The illness,” Mark answers, looking up at him and beckoning him over. “I’m asking it to go away.”

Youngjae treads carefully towards Mark and crouches beside him. He reaches down and touches the baby breath that has grown under the other’s footsteps—it’s real. He can smell the sweet scent. Suddenly, Mark’s hand is grabbing his and placing it against the tree trunk carefully. Youngjae gulps, feeling the bark cracking under the weight of his hand. 

“You can feel it, Youngjae,” he hears Mark say, “right?”

Youngjae looks at the tree, and something within him tugs at his heart. The branches are long and curved downwards towards the stream, the bark is cracked, peeling off and covered in spots of moss. He can hear birds chirping above, perhaps they have nested there, and he can also see squirrels jumping from one branch to another. 

“Yeah,” he answers, feeling kind of strange. Mark’s hand is still holding his. “This tree is home to many things.”

“And yet the forest should have been a home to it,” Mark answers, thoughtful, as he looks up at the tree. 

He presses his other hand to the trunk, closes his eyes for a moment and everything goes still. Youngjae can only sit there and watch in awe as the tree seems to stir suddenly, tiny green sprouts growing through the cracks in the bark. Upon closer inspection, he notices that Mark’s pale skin is speckled with little freckles in all possible variations of the colour green. 

He’s like a walking garden. A beautiful flower in human form.

When Mark opens his eyes with a small gasp, Youngjae looks up at his face and is relieved to see a proud smile on his lips. 

“It’s healthy,” he says with relief, gently prodding the new baby buds that will one day become new branches and leaves. 

Youngjae thinks back to what his grandmother said before he went to the forest. 

“Are you a goblin?” he asks as they move to their feet again. 

Mark turns to him with wide, curious eyes. 

“A goblin? No.” He smiles. “I haven’t seen goblins in a long while.”

“Then what—wait, am I dreaming?” 

There is just no way Mark is real. Youngjae has come to the conclusion that he must belong to a dream, a figment of his boundless imagination that has somehow made its way to the forefront of his mind. 

“You’re not dreaming, Youngjae.”

He blinked. It is only then that he notices Mark has already called him by his name twice.

“How do you know my name?”

“You’ve been here many times, haven’t you?” Mark says, vaguely gesturing towards the stream and the bushes full of ripe berries. 

“But I’ve never seen you nor told you who I am.”

“There’s no need.” 

Slowly, mark reaches into Youngjae’s pocket and pulls out a tomato that has, thankfully, not been crushed by his recent fall. Youngjae stares at it, mouth opening and closing several times. 

“Grandmother,” he finally manages, and Mark nods. 

“The exchange. This fruit for your berries.” 

“But what about the other times? I never left anything here after picking berries or flowers,” Youngjae asks, trying his best to recall all the previous summers. 

“That’s what you think,” Mark replies as a couple of birds fly by, chirping happily. One of them flies back and stands on his head, poking through the dark locks with its beak until it finds the little twig it was looking for. Mark doesn’t seem to mind as he continues speaking, “but there was always something casually falling out of your pocket. An acorn, a couple of strawberries, a handful of sunflower seeds. You never noticed.”

“And you did?” Youngjae asks, wondering if he’s been watched all those times.

“Of course I did.” Mark reaches out and gently pushes Youngjae’s bangs out of his face. When he pulls his hand back, there’s a pink impatiens flower curled around Youngjae’s ear. “I’ve always been here.”

The little bird flies off and suddenly there’s silence. Now that they’re so close again, Youngjae can definitely see the sparkles on Mark’s cheekbones and eyelids. He looks like someone has sprinkled glitter over his face and painted all his moles and freckles green. A fascinating creature whose nature he thinks he’s beginning to understand but cannot bring himself to say so out loud yet.

He reaches up and takes the flower from around his ear, chuckling. Mark watches him fondly.

“It’s getting dark,” he says, and Youngjae glances up to the sky to confirm it. The sunlight is fading. “You should probably head back, although,” he pauses for a moment before continuing, “nothing would hurt you even if you walked through the deepest, darkest parts of this forest in the middle of the night.” 

Youngjae smiles in response, believing him. 

“I don’t know what I did to deserve such kindness, but thank you, Mark.” 

Mark nods towards his little white bag, and Youngjae hands it to him. He watches as the taller boy puts his hand inside for a moment and then withdraws it when the bag is looking full and heavy. 

“I trust this is enough for the healer’s pie,” he says, handing it back. 

When he takes it, Youngjae has to hold it with both hands because of how heavy it is. 

“Wow, it’s actually—it’s more than enough,” he says, surprised. How did he do that?

Mark walks him back to the edge of the woods. Youngjae is fascinated by the way the forest seems to come alive when Mark walks past—the trees shine with vigour and youth, the flowers open their petals and their colours turn more vibrant as they face him. With every step he takes, different kinds of flowers sprout and grow in a matter of seconds, bright and healthy and beautiful. His hand feels warm and comforting as it holds Youngjae’s, leading him through the winding path. 

Youngjae steps out of the cover of the trees and into the field, noticing the sky is tinged in orange, pink and purple hues. Mark is not following him, so he turns around. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks, noticing Mark is standing by a large tree. 

“I can’t go any further,” the other replies.

“Why not?” 

“I can’t leave myself behind, you see.” 

Youngjae arches an eyebrow.

“You speak in riddles.”

“I speak to those who listen,” Mark replies when Youngjae walks back towards him. “Like you. And your grandmother.” 

Youngjae stares up into his big dark eyes, pondering over his next words. 

“Let me give you something in return,” he says, “for all these berries.”

Mark watches him expectantly and nods, a tiny smile spreading across his face. 

Youngjae doesn’t know if this will count as a gift for the forest, but his heart has been begging him to do it ever since he’s seen Mark healing the tree and bringing it back to life. He steps closer and has to stand on the tips of his toes to bring his lips closer to Mark’s. Surprisingly enough, the other meets him halfway. 

It’s an odd kiss. Brief, soft, almost feather-like, but imbued with life. Every fibre in Youngjae’s being seems to awaken in response, and he’s so awestruck and breathless by the time they break apart that he doesn’t really see the colourful mixture of petunias, marigolds, blue lilies, hydrangeas, baby’s breath and daisies that have sprung from the soil in a circle around them. 

Mark looks slightly breathless as well, and there’s a greenish pink tinge on his cheeks that makes him look even more beautiful. 

“I kindly accept your gift,” he says with a nod and a big smile.

Youngjae returns the smile, and they part with a longing look and an unspoken promise—he’ll be back tomorrow. And the day after, and the one after that as well. 

He’s still flushed and breathless when he gets home. His grandmother is cooking something that smells like stew and makes his mouth water. 

“You’re late, child, I was beginning to worry about you!” she says, peeking into the hall from the kitchen as Youngjae removes his shoes. “Oh, you brought a lot of berries,” she says, noticing the bag.

“Yeah, I—well, there were so many.”

His grandmother smiles knowingly. 

“The forest has been generous with you.” 

Youngjae grins sheepishly as she disappears back into the kitchen without a word. He catches sight of himself in the mirror and notices the print on his shirt. It’s a simple sentence that reads _on your mark_ , right in the middle of his chest. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a short one-shot but I really cannot trust myself with words so I logically got carried away oops~  
> It's past 2 am right now and this is unbeta-ed but I really wanted to post it because I feel oddly proud of it. Also, the world needs more markjae.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this little piece of Ghibli-inspired fluff! Comments, reviews, kudos and the like are always appreciated ♡♡


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